


The Moon of Seasons Turning

by morgan_cian



Series: Poetry [2]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-22
Updated: 2013-07-22
Packaged: 2017-12-21 00:48:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/893848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morgan_cian/pseuds/morgan_cian





	The Moon of Seasons Turning

The air is a heady mix of brisk.

Not too warm, not too cool.

The Vernal moon is witness.

Shivering but not cold, slender fingers beckon.

Touch to neck and hip.

Grip to thigh, tight and secure, it is a quake, the fear.

Skin on skin, cold smooth marble, the bite and then release.

Alone, tracing the name inscribed.

Rest in Peace, William Jeremiah Holmes, beloved brother, father, friend.

Anticipation.

Heat and musk.

Bold and free.

Arms above the tipped back head.

Air kisses dip and valley, skin tightens.

Anticipation.

Earth, pungent and dark.

Soil crumbles.

Fingers curl, cold marble reassures.

Sweat and seed.

Litha’s blessing, thin and evaporating.

The burn of sulfur, the red of ember.

Smoke and satisfaction.

Alone, tracing the name inscribed.

Rest in Peace, Abigail Monroe Jones, a long life remembered.

Harvest and thanksgiving.

Plentiful and grateful.

Greed and need.

The old gate squeaks.

Leaves rustle.

Wet, damp, itchy, craving.

Hands unfulfilling.

Perfunctory.

Dissatisfaction.

Mabon’s moon is cold and unfeeling.

The climax is by touch not joining.

The ache burns.

A kiss, fleeting and gone.

Alone, staring at unforgiving marble.

Rest in peace, Michael Swan, gone but not forgotten.

The white is peaceful.

Undisturbed.

The cloak swirls.

All warmth is gone.

The sun sets with the promise of Yule merriment.

Holly wreath about the wrist.

A shackle of misery.

Petals torn.

They flutter, kissing the snow.

Alone.

Red on white.

Passion’s requiem.

Alone.

Tracing over the headstone.

Alone and surrounded by death.

Pretty words, long departed connections, lives no longer entwined.

Dead flowers, the wolf, the angel, the scythe.

Alone.

No name to trace.

Be well on your journey.

My love.


End file.
